Slip
by Lisse
Summary: The pilgrimage and the way it changes people, except when it doesn't. Wakka/Rikku.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Final Fantasy_-related. This fic was written for fun, not profit.

_Slip_

-

See, some days she just wants to smack him.

Not hit him. Hitting him means a closed fist and a choice weapon or three and somebody limping off to see if Yunie's got a healing spell handy. No, what she means is a _real_ smack, fingers all flat together and maybe he'll just laugh. Might be worth it.

Except she'd probably break her hand on that jaw, seeing as how he's got rocks for brains and a thick skull to boot. And she's kinda half-afraid he'll say something about Al Bhed heathens even though she knows he won't now and -- and she really shouldn't care what he thinks anyway.

She doesn't, by the way. So there.

Jerk.

There's this little teeny-tiny corner of her head that's thinking maybe she keeps glancing over at him because it's better than thinking about something else. It's better than thinking about what's gonna happen to Yunie -- no, no, not gonna go there -- and just maybe it's because he's all safe and stuff. He's all normal, or as normal as anybody who's a guardian can be.

She kinda likes normal people, even stupid rock-brained ones. He's not gonna go anywhere, or at least that's what she tells herself a lot.

When she squeezes her eyes shut and tries not to think about the big Yunie-shaped hole the Calm's gonna have, he's the one who pops up. Like you could move the entire world around and he'd still be just the same.

Like a rock, really. A big annoying rock who smiles all nice, except he doesn't smile much these days.

Rocks-for-brains. Good name. Maybe she'll call him that. He'll get all mad at her and she'll get a reason to smack him -- a better reason than him laughing cute, or at least a reason she can actually say.

Big jerky cute rock. Maybe he'll laugh at that. She wants him to laugh.

Because. See. She thinks he's the one who _could_ still laugh. Not now, but someday later. And then she can laugh with him about something real stupid -- she's all full of stupid stories, or she used to be -- and that's after and she's not gonna think about that, shewon'tshewon'tshewon't.

That just leaves here and now and her bouncing on her toes. It's her turn to keep watch and anyways she just can't _sleep_. She knows it's no good trying, not with the bad dreams she's starting to get. Dreams all full of holes, and mostly they're Yunie-shaped but sometimes they're him, because he's all normal and safe and that's the first thing Sin gets, isn't it.

Normal and safe and then kablooie, all gone.

Sometimes she thinks she's dreaming, but then she tries to wake up and nothing's all changed, and it's like everyone's slipping past her in a current and she's gone and forgot how to swim. It shouldn't be like that. Not just now, when there's no fiends in sight and no one's awake to leave big empty silences around and it's all quiet and peaceful-like.

Calm-like, maybe.

This is what she wants the Calm to be like. Not the bits where she's got something squeezing her heart, but the bits where everyone's _here_ and there's no holes to work around. It's like she wants to change everything in the background -- just Sin, that's all, not too much to ask -- and leave everything in her little circle right how it is. Changing-but-not.

So she goes and stands right next to him and thinks he's good at changing without _changing_. He's safe as great big jerks go.

_Anchor._ That's the word she's looking for. Big red-haired stubborn anchor. Like if she can just get a grip on him, she can grab onto Yunie and everything else, all the other good bits and pieces, and make sure they don't change any more than he does.

But he isn't gonna understand, not even if she stomps her feet and rages at him and slaps him for being thick and maybe not even if she just kinda runs up on tiptoe and kisses him -- gotta make sure he's still there. Or maybe he will understand, and that's worse because then he's not gonna be the way he was and she won't have anything all constant and predictable to hold on to.

She thinks maybe she wants to smack him because she's used to being mad at him over silly things and nothing's silly anymore. Instead she kinda slumps down on the ground and wraps her arms around her knees and it's amazing they don't have fiends all around them, the way he snores.

"Don't you go changing on me," she mutters, and she breathes this great big sigh of relief when he doesn't wake up and answer.


End file.
